


Five times Jon denies that he's in love, and one time he doesn't

by Miss_Rust



Series: Here with me [1]
Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: 5+1 Things, Airplanes, Alternate Universe - College/University, Best Friends, Feelings Realization, Fluff, Horror Houses, Hugs, I Will Go Down With This Ship, Jonmund Week 2020, Like that kind you find on fairs, M/M, Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-28
Updated: 2020-03-28
Packaged: 2021-02-28 21:48:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,465
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23364232
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Miss_Rust/pseuds/Miss_Rust
Summary: Jon Snow has a realisation, but it does take him a while to get there.Written for Jonmund Week 2020 (Day 6, Touch/Intimacy)
Relationships: Tormund Giantsbane/Jon Snow
Series: Here with me [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1675798
Comments: 19
Kudos: 124





	Five times Jon denies that he's in love, and one time he doesn't

**Author's Note:**

> This has been written for Jonmundweek2020, Day 6 (Touch/Intimacy)
> 
> Have fun with reading!

1.

They're walking down the streets, and it's fucking freezing, the cold November air crisp and clear, the moon and the streetlights shining softly on the sidewalk. 

Jon and Tormund had finished late at uni, as one of their lectures had been pushed back due to open day last week. So they had to come in for a late one today. 

Now they're walking back to the dorms. Jon had only worn his leather jacket today because it was sunny this morning, but now he's way too cold, frozen to his toes. The things you do for the aesthetic. 

Next to him, Tormund is going on and on about something Jon can't wrap his head around, no matter how hard he tries, he just can't focus. It's too cold. All he can think right now is a mixture of _'shit, fuck, can't feel my fingers'-_

"Jon? Are you listening to me?" 

He and Tormund lived on the same corridor and happened to be enrolled in the same course at uni. Immediately after fresher's week, they were inseparable friends, sharing their homework, their woes about their most hated professors. Most of their time was spent together, either at home in the dorms, or revising in the library, or gaming when they had some free time. 

"Jon?"

"Mhh?" 

"You okay?" 

Tormund looks concerned now, stopping under a streetlight. Fascinated in his distracted, freezing state of mind, he stares at Tormund's hair, a soft, warm shine to them from the streetlamp. He's barely aware he's shivering until Tormund puts a warm hand on his arm. 

"Jon, are you okay?"

"Yeah, just distracted."

"You're shivering."

"It's fine- "

"I mean, it's no wonder, why did you put on your leather jacket? Jon, it's nearly 7 degrees!"

"The aesthetic?" Jon replies weakly, trying to stop his body from shivering under his friend's scrutiny. 

"Ack- Come on, we'll be home soon." 

And with those words, suddenly he finds himself tucked underneath Tormund's arm, his hand settling low on his back. Fuck-

The warmth from Tormund is slowly seeping in, and Jon fights the urge to sigh happily.

"Fucking southerners, used to no cold, leave it to the Norwegian to have the brains about the weather, Jesus Christ Jon" he hears Tormund mutter somewhere above him.

Jon relishes in the feeling, the strong arm that is wrapped around him carefully, and tries to ignore his elevated heartbeat. This is normal, just an action between friends. Completely normal.

2.

They're cooking, making some kind of doughy pastry from Norway, and Jon keeps forgetting its name. Having hijacked their floor's kitchen, half of the room is now, sort of, well, _covered_ in flour. Tormund looks exasperated. 

"I did not expect you to be this useless in a kitchen, Snow" he snickers, as Jon desperately tries to get some sticky dough off his fingers, "you need to add more flour, idiot-"

"I can't very well just reach into it, I'll get the dough inside-"

"Oh, just let me-"Tormund throws some more flower at the countertop, and partly at him, and Jon has to laugh at his shenanigans. 

"Now knead," his friend says, grinning at him. 

Jon does. 10 minutes later, Tormund declares his efforts well enough, and they get to shaping, and then they're in the oven.

Tiredly, Jon leans against the countertop and raises his hands to go through his hair. 

"wait, you've got-" 

"huh?" 

But Tormund is already standing in front of him, carefully wiping across his cheek. He must have gotten some flour or dough on it. 

Tormund is so close now, standing in his space, and Jon can see the different coloured specks in his eyes. And his freckles. There are so many freckles. His breath hitches a bit, and he tries really hard to not lean into his hand, despite himself.

"Is it gone?" he's surprised his voice is so stable, his heart is beating so fast. 

"Yeah, just a bit of flour." 

The door opens, and Gilly from Room 37 comes in in tow with her friends, and Tormund is already a step back from him, and the moment is gone. 

3.

They're going home for the holidays, and Jon has been packing all day. He hates packing. It stresses him and makes him anxious. 

For some reason, the entire packing and leaving thing makes him somehow homesick and sad, but Jon never knows what he misses more. His halls where he lives most of the time, or his home where his family is. 

It leaves him confused and upset either way, and he's moping on his bed. Trying to distract himself, Jon's on his phone, his suitcase is next to the door. He's basically just waiting for the time to pass now, nervous energy coursing through him. He’s been done packing for about 10 minutes now, leaving nothing to chance. But then again, there isn’t much to pack anyways. He has loads of clothes still at home with his family, so he travels light.

He has loads of extra time. Loads. If he leaves in like, 20 minutes, he'll arrive at the train station half an hour before the train leaves. 

He just hates being late, because he intensely dislikes running for the train only to barely miss it. But alas, these are British fucking trains, so you never know what's going to happen. 

Suddenly, there's a knock at his door, and at his "come - in" Tormund pokes his head through.

"Hey bub, you packed?" 

"Yeah, I'm done, just waiting now, 20 minutes left till I have to go."

The bed dips under Tormund's gigantic frame as his friend jumps down on the bed next to him.

"Why the face? Aren't you happy to go home?" Tormund enquires, knocking their shoulders together amicably.

"I hate packing and travelling, it's just awful, that's all."

"Aww, it will be alright" Tormund coos at him, ruffling his hair. 

Jon pulls a face at him, but the ginger merely laughs, a deep belly laugh, and suddenly they're just giggling on the bed together, scrolling through their social media and showing each other memes.

Before he knows it, the 20 minutes are up. He feels much better now, and he tries hard to not think about why Tormund keeps doing that to him. The fuzzy feeling is bubbling in his chest as he runs about the room, gathering things together. 

Tormund watches, sitting on his bed. Jon knows his flight to Oslo only goes tomorrow, where he'll have to catch a bus to Ålesund, his hometown.

Jon luckily won't have to go that far, only up to Edinburgh, which will still be an eight-hour train but at least he won't have to fly.

Tormund helps him get his suitcase downstairs and waits while Jon quickly stops by their warden's office, to tell Mance he's off and when he gets back. 

He gets out, throwing a quick goodbye to the other staff that is around and then they're outside. 

"Jon." Tormund holds open his arms for a hug, and Jon goes happily.

He melts into his friend's chest, relishing in the feeling as Tormund folds his arms around him and just _holds_ him, gently. 

He closes his eyes, melting a bit as he inhales Tormund's scent, and burrows his face into the ginger's shirt. 

"Call me when you get home?" 

The question gets murmured into his hair, and Jon nods, not looking up, knowing Tormund will get his answer. 

He doesn't really have words right now, breathing carefully, trying to keep steady against the onslaught of emotions. 

The fluttering in his tummy has increased, and he blinks away some of the wetness threatening to overflow his eyes. He's surprised at the sadness overcoming him, he's fine, he's gonna see Tormund in two weeks! 

They release slowly, but Tormund's hands linger on his hips shortly as they pass, and Jon tries very hard to not listen to his heartbeat hammer away in his chest. This is fine. Normal. Just saying goodbye to a good friend, that's all. 

"Try to not let Arya and Rickon kill you with their shenanigans." 

"I don't know, I might join in and annoy Robb." 

They fall into laughter together, but then Tormund starts shooing him off, and he goes. He really does not wanna miss his train. 

When he looks back to the house, to get a last view from the end of the street, Tormund is still there and raises his hand for a wave.

Jon smiles and waves, ignoring the happy jump his heart makes at the sight. 

4.

It was during exam season, and their floor had decided to do a movie night in the common room, to wind down. 

Jon's late today, since he was still revising, but he got it all done last minute. By the time he walks into the room, all the seats are taken. Tormund's on the far end of the room, sharing a sofa with Gilly and Sam. 

Edd and Grenn are fiddling with the console, starting the film, so Jon quickly walks over to his friends. Some people are sitting on the floors, so he's probably gonna do that too next to the sofa, so he can talk to Tormund.

He walks over, nods at Tormund, not wanting to talk and interrupt the film. 

He moves to sit down, but Tormund grabs his hand and pulls him down, onto the floor in between his legs. 

Jon's mind goes blank, as he sits on the floor, the gingers' legs two solid, warm pillars encasing him. He tries hard not to think about the fact that he is literally, in between Tormund's legs. Jon's glad that the Norwegian can't see his face because he's sure he must be as red as a tomato by now. 

He is glad he can lean back though, and after a while, Jon's dozing off, following the film is hard in his brain fried state, so he just closes his eyes for a bit, basking in the warmth.

He's really sleepy now, and even though the floor is kinda uncomfortable, he's quite cosy.

Jon must have dozed for a while longer than he was supposed to, but he is startled awake. 

He doesn't recognise where they are in the film, but it must have been going on for a while.

There are fingers in his hair, carefully carding through his curls. Playing with them, gently stroking over his scalp, and Jon has to close his eyes again from the stimulation.

The hands are rough and big, so it must be Tormund. Jon can feel him leaning over his body slightly. 

He feels safe like this and tries really really hard not to question the warm feeling that's spreading in his chest.

A shiver goes down his spine as Tormund doesn't stop carding his fingers through his curls, and he shudders a bit. 

And then tries to stop his traitorous body from shuddering more, because Tormund leans down over him further to whisper in his ear, his breath ghosting along his ear.

"Okay?" 

"Uh-huh" Jon just hums, helplessly, not knowing what to do at all. But he really doesn't want Tormund to stop. 

He looks up, tilting his head back to where his best friend is leaning over him. 

Blue eyes reflect the lights from the television, but Tormund is looking at him.

"You fell asleep, and your hair looked so fluffy so I-"

"Don't stop," Jon says quietly, the words out of his mouth before he knows it, and promptly blushes. He thinks the dark room hides it though, or at least he hopes so. 

A small smile flits over Tormund's face, and the skin crinkles around his eyes, they are so blue, Jon can't stop looking at them. 

But then, Jon is caught off guard by a yawn, and the spell is broken as their eye contact is disrupted.

He settles back in against the sofa, and Tormund's hands are back in his hair, and he doesn't try to think about it too much. He's way too tired to. 

5.

It's fucking four am in the morning, and Jon is cursing everything and everyone in existence. The sun isn't even shining. He's too tired, and yet he's walking through the halls of Heathrow, small suitcase in tow, into the direction of security checks. 

Tormund is walking with him, equally as silent. They got up at a god-awful time, around 3 am, to get into an uber that would take them there. 

If it weren't so early, he'd be quite happy, because they're flying to Norway. First, two days in Oslo, sightseeing, and then Tormund is taking him up to Ålesund, where his family lives. 

His parents, and his younger sister, Ygritte, who studies at the local university. He knows them through the many times Tormund had face timed them, and Jon had said hi. Ygritte had even found his Instagram and sents him weird memes sometimes. Or regularly checks up on Tormund through him when Tormund isn’t answering his phone.

Somehow, it feels like the way when you meet your boyfriend's parents, but Tormund is not even his boyfriend. Just his best friend. That's all. 

(Jon ignores the tiny voice in his head telling him otherwise, or the weird fuzzy feeling he gets when he looks at Tormund's sleepy form walking in front of him.)

The corridors are long, but thankfully they've already checked in yesterday. Their seats are next to each other, and Tormund called dibs on the window seat when he had won against him in "Stone Paper Scissors". He’d get the window seat in the bus later.

They get through security, thankfully nothing happens, and they walk to the gate. Jon collapses on a seat in front of it, while Tormund goes perusing the duty-free, restless. 

He must have dozed a bit because Tormund calls his name and he realises the queue for boarding has started, and groans. 

"Did you buy anything?" his voice is rough from sleep still, as he starts gathering his things and gets up, walking with Tormund to join the people lining up. 

"Nah, duty-free is fuck off expensive," Tormund replies, and Jon notes once again how his accent grows stronger when he's tired. He looks forward to seeing Tormund speak more Norwegian, it sounds so cool.

"Ah, fair." 

It's their turn, and they walk on the plane quickly. Not even 10 minutes later the plane goes up, and they're craning their necks to watch outside. 

After a while, Jon gets too tired though and leans back, flipping through the plane magazine. The plane is really loud, but it's white noise, and so it makes him even more sleepy. He closes his eyes for just one second. 

And then opens them, and he realises several things at once.

One, the sun is shining now, so he must have slept for a lot longer than "just one second".

Two, his neck does not hurt, which confuses him because usually, his head dangles around weirdly because you can't incline the seats. But why?

Ah. Three. His head is lying on someone's shoulder. To be specific, Tormund's shoulder. Who also has in turn, lain down his own head on the top of Jon's curls. 

It's comfortable, and he feels _warm_ inside, happy. Tormund is asleep too, he can hear his even breathing, feel it even. It lulls him in again and ignores the tiny voice inside his head, saying that he should pull away, this is not what friends _do_. 

The weight on top of his head is comforting though, and Tormund's long ginger curls cascade down the side of his head, and he's so _sleepy-_

He closes his eyes again, and when the plane lands, neither of them comments on it. 

+1...and the one time he doesn't

It's Halloween. Tormund had been harassing him about going to this one fair, which had food stalls and a mirror maze and other activities you'd usually find on any fair. Carousels, sugar-glazed apples, cotton candy, all that jazz.

But no. None of these things interest his best friend at all. No, Tormund is here for the _horror house._

It's weirdly endearing, seeing the Norwegian, a tall, broad-shouldered man with a full beard, nearly skip through the fair with a bright grin on his face.

Jon treads behind him, measured steps, carefully avoiding touching other people. He's not really looking forward to going into the horror house. Still, for some reason, the moment Tormund put on his pleading eyes, he heard himself say "okay" before even realising what he had said.

He had, however, told him that he's really easily spooked, but Tormund had just laughed and said, "I'll protect you". And that was that.

Now, they're here, and Jon can already see the "horror house" in the distance. Tormund had promised to do the rest of the fair activities after. Why did he have to have a best friend obsessed with horror stuff?

At least it wasn't too cold. The sun was shining, and it was a warm day, the remnants of summer still lingering in the wind. 

"Come on!" 

Sighing, he follows Tormund up to the little stall selling the tickets, and despite his rising nervousness, has to smile when Tormund is basically bouncing with happiness at getting the tickets. 

There is a queue, but before he knows it, they're in. The path is relatively clear, and so far, it's not really scary, some things bouncing out at them and some music. 

But he knows that there are some people hidden in there, and sooner or later it's bound to happen that they come out at them. 

Tormund is mocking one of the displays, with gentle humour, but then behind them, one of the doors slaps close, and they're both turning around, but there's nothing there. 

Just to immediately snap around when there is a cackle from behind them. Simultaneously, they whip around, and there is the ugliest fucking disguised person ever. 

It's funnier than anything, but they're still running, manically cackling and screaming like they're children.

And then Jon chances a look back and the thing is actually following them, and he squeaks, very high pitched. Tormund must have seen it too because he just grabs the hands Jon is flailing about and starts dragging him with him. 

They don't stop running until they're out, the adrenaline still following.

"Jesus Christ" Jon wheezes and Tormund squeezes his hand, still laughing.

"That was sure something," comes the reply, "Now, I saw a bouncy castle on the other end, let's see if they let us in!"

The fair is huge, and now there are a lot more people. By the time they reach the carousel, not even a quarter way through, Jon realises he's, despite the fear of the horror house, grinning like a loon.

Tormund is babbling away, bubbly and smiley and Jon is just- 

They're still holding hands. It's not even necessary, like, there aren't _that_ many people.

It feels good though. Tormund's hand is so _big_ around his and warm and a little bit rough.

The way their fingers interlace-

Like they were made to fit into each other, moulding completely into each other.

Tormund turns and laughs, excitedly pointing at something but Jon can't do anything but stare dumbly, heart beating up to his ears.

It's so easy, and suddenly everything makes sense, but he's still knocked speechless. He's watching Tormund go on without even recognising Jon is having a crisis, while he has realised so much and yet just one thing-

The feeling was there all along, not just now, but he's _connected_ it.

That, there, is Tormund. His best friend, confidant and partner in crime, (not that they do any crime but at least some shenanigans)- _whom he is hopelessly and utterly in love with._

"-ou okay? You look a bit zoned out" Jon is ripped out of his reverie, focusing on Tormund who looks fondly at him.

"Yeah," he can just breathe into Tormund's direction, not even bothering to stop beaming at him, "just, happy." 

"Oh." Tormund beams back, and tugs and they're on their way again, steadily towards the bouncy castle.

Only now, Tormund doesn't look at him anymore, but his thumb is doing small circles on the back of his hand.

Jon doesn't think he realises. 

But Tormund turns around once more and squeezes, and it's a slow, deliberate squeeze, so Jon squeezes back, and his thumb moves like on its own accord-

Tormund squeezes once more, and they move on. 

Their hands don't separate for a long time. 

Every time Tormund squeezes carefully or rubs his thumb on the back of Jon's hand, the feeling in his chest expands and resurges. 

It took him a while, but now that he knows, he's happy.

**Author's Note:**

> How did you like it? Leave me a comment with what you think! (Or a kudos)


End file.
